Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.
I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.
The Image This Week:
(artist of picture unknown)
Story by: Melissa
Branwen was fond of these moments in her sanctuary on the rock edge. She knew she could never stay long to over look her home, as her parents would worry. But she loved the freedom to let her nature fly.
Her parents had not suspected anything different of her, and she kept it that way. Her mother use to ask if she felt anything, the wind, a calling, anything. But Branwen always said no and ran off to play with the other kids. She knew from the stories of cursed people that she would be killed for what she was, so kept her secret hidden. Only to release herself on rare days she could make this trek through the woods and up the mountain away from others.
Branwen looked off into the breeze, enjoying its caress and embrace. The wind grew stronger, and she held her pale dress down, letting her hair flow freely. Her hair felt as it was elongating, but she knew what was happening. Ravens where releasing from their hold of her, she liberated them from her hold close to her.
Branwen closed her eyes watching through her beloved ravens as they stretched their long aching wings over the land. A chill ran down her spine, and she reached to her now bald head, without her waist length hair she could feel the nip of the mountain air.
Branwen took a deep breath stilling herself for the return of her ravens. What they found while out would decide if she was returning home today or going in search of the answers she needs, to learn where she's from.
However, she knew where her ravens flew; there would be battle, even if only a bar fight between friends or country against country. She never let the rage get that far out of hand, but the ravens where getting stronger and she knew the day was coming. She would soon have to leave home, hoping those who took her in all those years ago would survive.
Branwen walked the path into a new town. She over heard the stories of the battles in Erwen, Rovendale, and Logen. Then there where tales of a fair skinned girl with raven black hair that feathered out in the wind to ravens. And when she made an appearance in a town that death and war would follow.
Branwen reached up to her bundled hair she now keeps hidden in cloth, holding back tears for those that loved her and helped her, to simply die in an unneeded battle for land rights. Branwen glanced around town as she hid in the shadows of the tavern, looking for the home of the old woman who might hold the secret to her existence.